


hold me invisible against your sun

by sweetwatersong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossroads Deals & Demons, Gen, Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good man makes an old-fashioned deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me invisible against your sun

He finds the pieces readily enough, taking a black cat’s bone from the voodoo man in Kentucky, sifting out a pinch of dirt from a cemetery with cracked and mossy wrought iron gates. They all go into the small wooden box, fitting in neatly beside each other with an order that can’t be imposed on the real world. The old Polaroid is last, placed carefully on top so his grandfather’s beaming face is unobstructed by the edges of the plastic bags. He looks at the faded photograph for a moment, taking in the happiness in his own gap-toothed grin, the pale outline of what could be a trading card in his small fingers, before he closes the top and sets the box aside.

It’s not long until the rundown motel is completely silent, only a few hours before even the trucker and his companion are finally exhausted. He rises from the thin mattress, takes the box in one hand, and slips out of his room.

Everything is washed out in the pale moonlight; his dark suit, the gravel, the skin of his hands. He scoops out a hole in the middle of the crossroads, the soil soft and giving after the rain, coating his white fingers until they are black. The box is set neatly in the center; all it takes is two smoothing gestures to cover it completely.

"Phil Coulson," a bemused voice says. He rises, turns to face the dark-skinned woman standing with her hands on her hips and her head tipped to the side. "Making a deal with the Devil."

"With a crossroads demon, actually," he corrects her.

"Always precise," she drawls. "So what does the good man want with a _crossroads demon_?”

"We need a hero."

"Are we referencing Shrek?" She looked around for effect. "I don't see anyone here but you, Phil. Or should I say, Agent?"

"Say what you want to. I need heroes; I need the Avengers."

Her eyebrows lift.

"You want a whole team of superheroes, most of whom will be paying us a permanent visit? One who’s been dead for almost seventy years? You must think your soul is worth a lot, Agent."

"You know that it is."

She studies him, giving the truth of his statement away with how long she takes.

"You're right. Fine, then; six superheroes for the price of your soul, Coulson."

"How long do I get?" He asks as she moves closer, bright eyes focused on his lips. She laughs.

"Long enough." And then she’s kissing him, her mouth warm and inviting, and the moonlight throws shadows against the pale, pale ground.

 

An hour later the Hulk spits a twisted bullet out onto the broken concrete.

 

Two days later Obadiah Stane gives an Afghanistan warlord the order for Tony Stark’s death.

 

Three years later SHIELD finds a plane covered with ice, a shield that matches one in a photograph which rotted away under dark soil and wooden splinters long ago.

 

Four years and one kiss for his soul later, Phil Coulson gets his wish.


End file.
